Existence
by Fylkii
Summary: What does it mean to live, to exist, for a 300 million year old genetically and mechanically altered Genesect? (Not discontinued; yet)
1. Hunted

The black bipedal fox-like creature ran through the misty forest with agility, cutting through the damp air she once called her home. Her red hair extended to nearly her entire body length, tinged with black spikes the color of the darkest night. Her claws were of deep crimson, and had always kept her out of trouble when combat was necessary.

But in the Zoroark's eyes, true fear radiated. Fear of a predator, one with inhuman strength and power, yet with the intelligence to have tracked her for three months. The fear that induces the panic, the primal will to survive.

Instinct told her to create her illusion and seek refuge. But that… thing… It could not be eluded. It wasn't natural. Nothing natural could have seen through her illusion. Yet she doubted she had the strength to create one. All her willpower was devoted to fleeing. To see another day.

The forest seemed endless. But the Zoroark knew, in her years of residence, that she had the advantage here. Something wasn't quite right, and she quickly paused to sniff the air. She felt a human presence, one that needed help. Curiosity broke her will to escape, and she slowly walked to where her senses told her the human was located. Perhaps she thought that the human was a ranger, or at least a trainer that could protect her. Normally the Zoroark would never go near a human without an illusion, but she was desperate. It was likely her only chance.

It was a good day for Eva. This day marked the second year of her career as the member of a top Ranger company, the Paladins, dedicated to protect the rare and elusive Pokemon of her world. Her partner Grovyle seemed to share the same feeling of accomplishment, although he was born a mute and was limited to only gestures to communicate. Eva seemed to be the only one who understood him, so they soon forged a close bond.

Eva was assigned to the north-west section of the Lonesome Woods. It was the only post open when she was accepted into the Paladins, and after two years patrolling the area, she knew why. The Lonesome Woods were already quite lonesome, but the north-west seemed the most secluded of them all. It was rumored to drive Rangers insane, but Eva just chuckled at her friend's warnings. After all, she had Grovyle. That was the only company she needed while patrolling these areas.

* * *

><p>The day went past quickly, and soon the stars and moon ascended to the dark blanket of night.<p>

"Beautiful night, isn't it…" Eva whispered to her partner.

Grovyle gave no reaction, instead being content to piece together the puzzles formed by the bright stars.

Several minutes later, Grovyle began to grow restless. He looked over at Eva, and tried to look concerned.

Eva quickly took notice of her partner's change of mood, and decided they would call it a night.

"Let's get back before anyone gets worried." Of course they had been out much later, it was just an old joke Grovyle and Eva did not mind sharing even to this day.

As they packed up their Ranger equipment, the bushes in the left of the clearing started to rustle. Eva dismissed it as the cool spring breeze, but Grovyle sensed something off. He quickly motioned towards Eva, who immediately understood.

A minute passed yet nothing revealed itself. Yet another minute elapsed, and the motion died.

"See, Grovyle? Just the wind-"

Eva froze. This time, she felt the presence of a stranger. Slowly turning her head, she found herself staring into the eyes of the most magnificent creature she had ever seen.

The Zoroark.

But Eva could tell that she was afraid. The Zoroark's eyes were wide, and her breaths came in ragged gasps through lungs battered with the stress of constant running. Kneeling to make a less threatening figure, Eva spoke softly to the fox-like Pokemon, trying to calm it down, as she had done many times in her training.

* * *

><p><em>What are you doing? It isn't safe here!<em>

The Zoroark tried to warn the Ranger to make her escape. She had hoped that the human would be able to at least help her get to a safe place to rest, but she knew this Ranger and her Grovyle would stand no chance against Zoroark's hunter.

However, the Ranger just stared. The Pokemon tried again to tell the human of the danger.

_Leave! Before-_

A soft whirring sound echoed through the woods. The sound the Zoroark was running from for the past two months.

She knew it was too late to run.

* * *

><p>Eva saw it unfold seemingly in slow-motion, viewing every frame but unable to help as a sphere of fire burst through the trees and slammed directly into the Zoroark's back. She was immediately knocked down by the explosion, coughing by the burning smoke thrown by the projectile. The force of the detonation was too powerful; there was no way it was natural.<p>

"We need to… cough… get out of here…" Eva sputtered to her Grovyle, who was suffering a similar fate sprawled on the cold ground.

Slowly they crawled to a safe distance, where they wistfully watched the smoke clear through irritated eyes. The Zoroark lay unmoving, eyes closed and teeth clenched in unbearable pain. Her entire back was scorched, and the burn would kill the beautiful Pokemon if not treated. Eva was tempted to return to her side and get her medical attention, but Grovyle held her back and motioned for her to listen.

Mechanical footsteps echoed across the forest, nearing the location of the fallen Zoroark. The whirring sound slowly faded, and was soon overpowered by the sound of shifting metal components. Then there was silence.

Through sheer willpower, the severely injured Pokemon tried to lift its head off the floor and turn itself around. But a metal leg came down with force that made Eva wince, forcing the Zoroark's head down. The hunter regarded its prey coldly, oblivious to the presence of the Ranger.

Eva was frozen in fear, eyes wide and glued with horror, fixated on the ruthless predator claiming victory over its prey. She'd never seen anything like it before. It had the features of an arachnid and an insect… but on its back…

"Dear Arceus..." Eva managed to gasp.

**Author's Note**: And with that starts my story! A little rough and all, but I'm glad I was able to hash out my ideas in this... prologue. Being my first formal story, reviews mean a lot to me! Please understand! Be brutally honest, I'll never improve without feedback!


	2. Programmed

_**There are the hunters and there are the hunted. Remember that, Genesect.**_

The words echoed in my head as I looked down at the unconscious Zoroark at my feet. She had eluded me for months. Foxes were cunning creatures, but I was the hunter. I always won. I felt the heat radiating from the machinery on my back, softly hissing from the burst of superheated energy.

_I am unnatural. A creation. A modified experiment, testing the limits of a fusion, one of Pokemon and technology._

_I can remember nothing about my past. All the memories I possessed are a blank space in my mind. Yet one thing I have remembered. It refuses to be forgotten._

_Team Plasma._

_My creators._

_I come from a past long gone, revived from the dust I had become. Revived as a hunter. That's me. A hunter. A killer. Genesect, terror of the new age. That was all they told me. They refused to reveal anything else. Was I too dangerous?_

_I remember nothing after. Another blank space in my memory. In the present, I am lost. Team Plasma is gone and my searches are in vain. There is only me now. And I do what I was created for. What I remember._

I cursed myself as I realized I was drifting off. Dammit. But what's there to curse about? As if being wired to a machine of destruction, **being** the machine of destruction, wasn't enough of a curse already. Every day I have felt the weight of the artillery strapped to my back. The innovation of the century, they say. Testing the limits of nature and machine. I grew accustomed to it. I accepted the fact that I was now, so to speak, a living tank.

I took one more look at my fallen prey, and started walking off. The hunt was over.

"**YOU BASTARD**!"

_Who was that_? I turned to the sound of the voice. It was a human. She appears to be female, and in her early stages of maturity.

_She's angry. Humans are angered easily. Why would she be angry at me?_

"**LOOK WHAT YOU DID! YOU HEARTLESS BASTARD**!"

I looked down at the limp Zoroark under my feet. _She is angry at me for wounding the Zoroark. Of course. Humans always grow attached to Pokemon. But what do you want me to do? Heal her? Do I look like some sort of magical healer?_

She didn't respond. I didn't blame her. How could she respond to what she can't hear? Nobody can understand me, and I stopped expecting it long ago. I was not created with a speech drive, I was created with weapon drives. Hunters don't need to talk. All they need is functioning senses and a weapon.

_Right_?

Yet often I find myself lost in thought, drifting away from the solid world and into the deep, endless expanses of my mind. Or what's left of a mind after 300 million years of decay, spliced together by whatever circuitry I was installed with.

"COLD BLOODED KILLER!"

The human screamed at me again. Anger is a powerful emotion; it can surpass fear and anxiety, bypass the greatest pains. But I could quickly see the anger-fueled female weakening. I did not give her the satisfaction of a response. I just glared at her, my synthetic eyes unmoving. Before long she had walked away, retreating to the safety of her kin, leaving only me to ponder her accusations. To drift among thought once more and rationalize with myself.

_Heartless bastard... Cold-Blooded killer..._

I already knew I had no heart to pump blood through my body. But then again, I am not the only hunter in this world to lack a circulatory and cardiovascular system. Was she accusing me of being unnatural then, a monstrosity of technology's most cruel advancements put together in the means of me? I was created to be a hunter, a tracker. It's not horrible for a hunter to make a kill, yet why did the human denounce me for it?

_Cold Blooded. Heartless._

And in that moment, I understood why she hated me, loathed my existence.

_Emotions... Pity. Mercy. Fear. Anger._

_I was not programmed to feel emotion. Is it my fault? Or is it my creator's? Did they believe it was unnecessary for me to be able to feel as they shaped me to their will?_

What is my existence without emotions? Am I just a ruthless hunter, killing everything in my path without hesitation or second thought? Because I was created to do so?

Perhaps I was supposed to be an icon of fear and destruction, as my makers intended when they fused nature and machine to create the most dangerous and effective weapon.

But tonight, I refused to be the killer I was designed to be.

I may not be programmed to feel.

I may not be programmed to cry.

I may not be programmed to laugh.

I may not be programmed for mercy.

I may not be programmed for compassion.

I may not be programmed for empathy.

But I can think, and I can act. I was given an independent mind with functioning limbs. My creators are no longer on this world.

Tonight, I would be my own programmer.

Tonight, I would defy my purposes.

* * *

><p>The Zoroark's breaths came in shallow patterns, accompanied by a weak cough as her lungs struggled for the oxygen her body demanded. Many Pokemon were fragile, and life slipped through their bodies rather easily.<p>

I carried her through the misty forest of night's domain as gently as a mechanical hunter could manage. Starlight quickly faded as the trees grew thicker and the bush grew denser. But I knew where I was going.

_We are almost there._

_You are not dying on me._

And for a moment, her eyes flickered open and seemed to acknowledge me before closing again, leaving me in order to return to the dark clutches of unconsciousness.

But for that moment, that split-second, it almost seemed as if she understood.

**Author's Note: **Oh dear, that was probably very confusing. I originally attempted to do a third person story like what I started, but it was just too difficult to know what the Genesect would be thinking, especially because he is a mute character. Even in first person, I guess it also was confusing to how our mute character was thinking. I meant for the italicized text to be his "deep in thought" moments whereas everything else would be his form of narration. Right? Alright I think I need some sleep, time to wake up and wonder whatever the heck I just wrote. Enjoy the first official chapter, I guess?


	3. Responsibility

The soft rain splashed rhythmically on the damp floor of the forest, streaking across a sky tinged with the subtle shine of moonlight. I sat by the mouth of the plain cave, listening to the storm pass over the woods and the distant thunder slice through the silver-trimmed horizon. The entrance to the cave was rather well-hidden, tucked between several large boulders and obstructed with vegetation. Impossible to notice by any casual passerby, human or Pokemon.

The cave radiated an aura of familiarity only I could feel. Or was it my imagination? Did I have an imagination? There were always more questions about my existence, always invading my mind without warning. Why was I even created with the gift of free thought? Why couldn't I just be a mindless killer like everyone expects me to be?

The reason for the cave's mysterious radiance could be explained as the same reason why Pokemon are attracted to their birthplace even as they mature; the one area they had grown up in always carrying a sort of value in their hearts. The secluded cavern was the closest thing to a home I had in the changed world. It was the place where my memories resumed the cave where I had awoken in.

A raspy cough drew me back to reality. I turned and saw the badly wounded Zoroark struggling for breath, laying on the damp cave floor. She was still in the dark grasp of unconsciousness, but had shifted so her chest was against the ground, putting unnecessary pressure on her breathing.

I tried to gently shift her position so she would be lying on her side, while trying to avoid contact with her horribly burned backside.

_I did this... This was all me. All my fault._

Even as I tried to turn the Zoroark, I felt the coldness of her body and realized she was starting to shiver ever so slightly. If she didn't succumb to her injuries, then she would freeze to death.

Why were natural creatures so fragile? Was it worth having emotions, having feelings, but always living in the constant shadow of death?

I decided to ignore the pondering side of my mind, and focused on sheltering my unlikely resident from the harsh climate. My first thought was to build a fire, the ancient protection against the elements of darkness and frost. But the rain still fell from the heavens, drenching the earth.

I cursed silently, noting the absence of suitable firewood, but not with frustration or anger. It was simply a way of reminding myself that I was capable of making my own decisions, a small effort to feel less of an artificial program. But I still lived in a mechanical shell, my consciousness separated from a heart that no longer served to sustain my life...

Right. The fire. Why was it so difficult for me to remain focused on a task? The Zoroark was going to die unless I thought of something, and I was not ready to give up yet.

My options were very limited. I had nothing flammable in the cave; why would I ever need it? Not like I ever needed to fear the cold. There was certainly nothing that escaped from the downpour outside the cave, so I didn't bother looking there either.

I tried to remember my behavior some 300 million years ago. What would my people have done? My species were the ancestors of several insects, but were most similar to arachnids.

_Was silk flammable?_

It was an interesting thought. But after the hundreds of millions of years, was I still capable of spinning a web? Honestly I had never tried. Having little use for the ability as a hunter, it seemed unlikely that the skill had been preserved in my fusion with machine.

_Only one way to find out._

I firmly put pressure on my right arm, locking the complex machinery that had replaced my natural tendons. I felt some internal components in my forearm shift as the silky material ejected from my claw. Still concentrating, I willed more of the silk out and created fair-sized mound. The web did not seem natural, but carried a synthetic feeling, obviously containing improvements in strength and utility made possible by science.

For me, it was just another reminder of my unnatural being.

But all bias put aside, I now had a hopefully ignitable pile of makeshift firewood. Kneeling by the edge of the tinder, I used a claw to hold a rock down and swiftly used the edge of the other to strike the stone. Golden sparks frantically raced down from where my claw scraped the surface and caught on the web. Was I doing this by instinct or memory? My pragmatic side quickly gunned down the question as it took off, and my attention resumed to the creation of the fire.

I struck the rock a couple more times, and eventually created enough heat to ignite the web. The small flame slowly spread through the silk, gradually building up its heat. A sudden gust of wind blew through the cave, and threatened to smother the growing fire. But the flames fought back against the storm, feeding off the irregular fuel it was given and eventually emerged victorious as the bright fire hummed with energy and pushed away the darkness and cold.

The steady crackling of the scarlet flames blended with the soft splashes of rain thrown against the ground outside the cave, despite being elemental opposites. My gaze shifted to the unconscious Illusion Pokemon, her sleek black and red fur glinting under the fire's light. Though a slight shudder ran through her body from time to time, her constant shivering had ceased as the campfire spread its warmth throughout the cavern.

My task was complete, and I sat down against a rocky wall of the cave. Even machines needed rest at times. I watched the firelight dance on the cavern walls, wrestling with the dark, unforgiving shadows. The intricate patterns helped to soothe my wandering mind, the sounds of the storm fading as I drifted into the blank realm of subconsciousness.

* * *

><p>It wasn't a true sleep, but was about as close as I had. Technically, my mind was still active but disconnected from my mechanical frame. The only sense I possessed in this subconscious state was the limited view from secondary optics, which provided a narrow, accelerated glance of my surroundings. Though impossible to notice any fine details through them, they did their job sufficiently; protecting me from any ambushes.<p>

The feeling could be described as a "peripheral vision." It allowed me to notice things beyond my normal perception range, which in this pseudo-sleep state, was inexistent.

But importantly, resting allowed me to think through life's questions free from major distractions. Of course a coward attempting to kill me in my sleep would fall under the "major distraction" category, but I had enough trust in my "peripheral vision" to not concern myself with that threat.

_Why?_

These types of questions were good. They allowed me to think on the causes of events. And from the events of today, I had a lot of causes to think about.

_Why was that human angry? Straightforward, she was attached to that Zoroark somehow. Humans often fail to understand the predator-prey relationships, and she was no exception_.

Why did I attack the Zoroark? I was created a hunter. So that is what I do. Hunt. A hunter sharpens his skill on elusive prey, as I had chose to hunt the elusive Master of Illusions. She was not elusive enough, however.

_So why was I keeping her alive?_

According to natural selection, if prey could not elude their predators, then it would be fair that they did not live on.

_Survival of the fittest._

But then again, that's coming from the mechanical abomination that was anything but natural.

Ironic, isn't it?

Maybe I just want to prove to myself that I wasn't only a "cold blooded killer," as the human put it. So, looks like I am proving it by trying to repair the damage. Huh.

_But how could I, an unnaturally augmented walking spider tank, perform the duties of a medic?_

That wasn't a good question for this time, and I decided not to think about it in my resting state. It made more sense to address it when I actually could see what I was dealing with.

I relaxed my mind and finally allowed myself some mental rest, faint images of my surroundings speeding through my empty thoughts.

* * *

><p>My main optics slowly returned to their functioning state, the synthetic lenses humming as they focused on the clear, gold-tinged daybreak on the horizon.<p>

Consciousness had returned back to its body, anchoring itself to the familiar frame. I scanned the surroundings around the cave. The storm had ceased, and daylight was starting to break through the bleak stormclouds. The fire left behind its remains of dark ashes and scorched ground, reminding me of the inconvenient responsibility I bore. The Zoroark was still unresponsive, but still clutching to her life.

I slowly got up from the ground. Dormant gears and hydraulics softly whirred as they resumed their operation, filling my mind with the familiar feeling and melody of shifting machinery.

Without the presence of the storms, the forest was a very temperate area. Sunlight projected on the ground in spot-like patterns, obstructed by the large, dense trees above. The temperature inside the cave was suitable, but it would still be wise to gather firewood in case the storm paid another untimely visit to this area.

For a moment I stood inside the cave, carefully watching the surroundings outside. I didn't care if anybody saw me in the forest, but I was not going to allow the cave to be discovered due to my negligence. Assured that nobody was around the cave, I left the cave and started looking for suitable logs of dry wood.

It didn't take very long to complete the task. Wood was quite plentiful in the Lonesome Woods, likely due to absence of Pokemon in the area. I bound the wood together using the silk I had relearned to spin, forming a convenient grip to carry it back to the cave. I had underestimated the utility of the web greatly, and now knew of its versatility even an unnatural hunter could find use for.

I set the bundle of firewood in the back of the cavern and turned my attention to the Zoroark and her injuries. I had no experience in healing. Some Pokemon were born with the ability, possessing the natural instinct to be able to nurse others to health. I obviously did not.

My intelligence was not artificial, having been revived from a once-living fossil. I still made mistakes, perfection is one of those things that cannot be programmed into a semi-natural thought system.

Apathy apparently could be.

But I had always felt another small mechanical presence in my mind. It was deactivated, but definitely existent.

My artificial intelligence. My computer.

If I activated it, would it take over my mind? Turn me into the mindless killer, guided my directives of code, that I was trying to prove myself more than?

It didn't seem very possible. The presence of the device was very insignificant compared to the prominent presence of, well, everything else. If anything knew how to cure a burn, it would be the computer.

But how would I activate it? I lacked the ability to verbally communicate, but could I communicate with the machinery inside?

Instead of thinking to myself like I normally do, I tried thinking to the computer, focusing my thoughts on the machine.

_Activate Artificial Intelligence_.

Would that be the right thing to say? I was unsure. It was a straightforward command, and hopefully used terms that the hibernating computer would recognize.

Nothing happened for a moment. Just as I was about to dismiss the thought of activating it, the presence started to increase slightly. More machinery hummed with increasing power in the back of my head as the CPU reactivated from the long sleep.

The humming slowly faded until it was replaced with the familiar whir. By now I could clearly feel the presence of the computer.

_**Command recognized.**_

The sudden output of the computer nearly took me by surprise. The feeling was very unfamiliar, sudden thoughts showing up in my mind. Is this how humans felt telepathy?

_**CPU reboot successful. Genesis 1.0 activated.**_

_**So the system was called Genesis. A fitting name for the AI of a Genesect… the first of its type.**_

_**System diagnosis initiating.**_

_**Weapon systems online.**_

_**Armor integrity at 100%.**_

_**Structural integrity at 100%.**_

_**Shielding system not detected.**_

_**Power levels at 85%.**_

_**System diagnosis complete.**_

It felt strange having the AI system "talk" directly into my neural feed, but I could not argue against it. Like the weight of my cannon, it would feel foreign at first; in time I would be accustomed to it. The utility of having a built-in computer was undeniable. It could directly communicate my mechanical frame, outputting technical statistics that couldn't otherwise be detected. It was built in conjunction with my body, and ironically would still know it better despite being deactivated for so long.

An idea flashed through my mind. If Genesis knew my existence better than I did...

_Genesis, scan system for term: "emotional programming" and output results._

Command acknowledged. Scanning systems.

I felt the computer's activity increase, humming slightly as it sorted through code and directives.

**_Match found. See directive: "Behavioral Restraints"_**

_Report status._

_**Directive "Behavioral Restraint" is active.**_

I wanted to be able to feel. To know emotion. To be able to truly live.

Was emotion now within my grasp? Just a command away?

_Genesis, attempt shutdown of Directive: "Behavioral Restraint"._

_**Cannot initiate changes to directive. Developer mode required to deactivate administrator programs.**_

_Then initiate developer mode._

_**Insufficient permissions. Uplink to authorized terminal required.**_

I did not feel surprised. I was clearly not created to feel emotions through my designated task, and the directive to ensure my inhibition would not be deactivated that easily.

I was too distracted, too lost within my mind, to notice the sleek figure that stood at the mouth of the cave. My presence was no longer a secret.

**Author's Note:** Whew! I know it took a long time, but there's Chapter 2. While my writing pace is very slow (and I thought newer writers didn't get writer's block), I was not ready to give up on my first story. Through grueling hours of staying up late and writing/deleting whole chunks of text I managed to spit out this hunk of a chapter. I hope what I did on the internal dialect isn't too confusing though, hopefully I will improve on writing less confusing dialogue. I tried to make this one a lot longer, but decided to cut it at a small cliffhanger and get it out here as quickly as possible, to prove to my one follower I wasn't dead (seriously though, I love ya man). As a newer writer reviews seriously help me! I greatly appreciate if you take the time to review, so I can know what to improve on as I grow. Thanks for reading!


End file.
